Buffa-Low

Wendigo was amused to find that, apparently, others really were just waiting for a group to start forming organically, because suddenly another figure popped up to hiss at them, asking about a hunt. He glanced over at her and did a double take. Oh, it was the odd canine from the boneyard! His amused half-smile stretched to a welcoming grin. She'd been aces at fighting, he had no doubt she'd be just as capable on a hunt. But the grin slipped into a wince when another canine - an actual wolf this time - slammed into him to heckle him. Oh. Havoc." His voice distinctly lacked enthusiasm to see the most annoying of his littermates, but Marrow was quick to welcome her into the group as well. She would. Well, at least he knew Havoc was handy in a hunt. If she could keep her mouth shut, he'd tolerate her for the sake of a bison. If he had to. He added some watts to his grin as he turned it back on Marrow. "Sounds like a plan to me," he said, bunching his muscles in anticipation, rising into a crouch. "Maybe you can annoy one to death, Havoc. Try to keep up?